


A Thief and His Angel

by GravityDefyingTrenchCoat



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon
Genre: But mostly fluff, F/M, Romance, julian angsting about nothing really, mention of other characters, navarre is there in spirit, rickard is an adorable goofball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityDefyingTrenchCoat/pseuds/GravityDefyingTrenchCoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The War of Shadows has reached its end and Marth's recruits are no longer needed. Everyone must find a new purpose in this time of peace- except for one thief. There is only one place he can go."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thief and His Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This odd little pairing has always captured my attention ever since I originally played Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon years ago. I'm not usually one for the lovable rouge/good girl trope, but I fell hard for these two. Because there is so little written for them, my head cannon sort of spiraled out of control and this was made. Please enjoy~
> 
> Timeline: Immediately following the final battle in Shadow Dragon
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It wasn’t the first sunset Julian had ever seen, and he knew wasn’t his last. But as he slouched by the stone brick wall, decorated with discarded weapons from battle, this one seemed different- special. A great evil had been defeated and the world was resetting. 

The final battle had been long and the strong fortress of Dohlr Keep was as menacing as its reputation had granted it. The walls alone held a looming eeriness that seemed to emanate the evil it had housed. Julian, who once had lived in the dreadful Ghouls Teeth, had never seen such a deprived place. The keep’s appearance became the least of their worries though, as Prince Marth lead them off into battle. The army had deterred in the main entrance, forced to fight their way through hordes of prepared enemy soldiers. Prince Marth had charged them onward though as they battled their way through the wicked corridors of Medeus’ home. 

Julian himself had remained further behind the group, scouting for any sort of equipment or treasure that would be of assistance. He hadn’t been able to salvage much, seeing as the fighting had intensified and had forced him to retreat. A silver sword he had swiped from a corpse during a previous battle had come in great use though as he slashed and defended himself and his comrades around. Ogma and Navarre had been leading the front of the charge, allowing the swords master to smoothly dispatch the enemies. All the while, Gordon’s arrows twirled through the air embedding mortal wounds in their targets. It had been a gruesome sight, blood poured onto the marble floors- the enemies sacrifice for their Lord. Julian had held little interest in the dead though, his only action was holding back the forces as Marth, with his mighty Falceon, pressed to the throne room with Princess Ceada at his heel. 

And without him having witnessed anything himself, the battle was won- Marth had vanquished the evil. When the mighty prince had reemerged from the heart of the fight, his weapon brandished, the remaining advisories needed no explanation when Marth demanded their immediate surrender. Many of the forces did just that; however, those who resisted were put down by the sword. 

The army hadn’t lingered in the inner halls long, only collecting supplies from the enemy’s stores before returning to the outside landscape. It had been decided they were to set up camp there and an afternoon of celebration commenced.

Many of the men had decided to have their own feast with the food they had raided from Dohlr’s personal stores. It seemed though mad dragon many have been wicked, his appetite appeared to have been of finer taste. Salted and smoked pig was passed around the campfires and few had even gotten their hands on some ale and were enjoying the rare benefit from their battle. Julian had indulged some, but had accepted no drink, choosing instead to wander off away from the festivities. 

At first, he had positioned himself in the entrance way of Keep and sat himself under the shade of the menacing statue of Lord Medeus, the dark dragon. He had watched Marth scurry back in forth from the camp to the open hallways of the fortress. The Prince was always with someone different, discussing another new topic under the long list of responsibilities that had been placed on his shoulders by the kingdoms new freedom. Minerva was at his side often, arguing and planning arrangements about future treaties and diplomacy. The two swooped by often enough that, to Julian, they reminded him of the blue jays and robins that lived in the trees at the foot of the Soothsire’s Mountains. The two passed by him every time they crossed the chiseled stone steps, but they said nothing to him. Julian just rested there, twiddling a pocket knife. No one noticed. 

He didn’t remain there all day. After a while, he returned to the edge of the campsite, adjacent to the fortress, and positioned himself comfortably against one of the looming grey walls. Julian didn’t doze. He would never do so out in the open, years of living with other thieves had taught him that, but his mind did drift a little as he was ensorcelled by the captivating sight of the sunset over the horizon in this strange land. He was so distracted he didn’t even notice a figure from the close campsite approach him. 

“Julian, what are you doing over here?” The voice was soft, inquisitive, not demanding, but the sudden proximity of the sound pulled him from thought. He startled backwards, his back hitting the wall, painfully jarring a minor wound to his shoulder he had acquired during the battle. He hissed at the pain and then lost his balance enough to slide down into a crouch against the stone. He groaned and blinked at the person who had snuck up on him. 

It was a young woman, her hair flowing a crimson red down to her shoulders. Bleached robes, tussled slightly from travel and battle, remained a starch white drape over her thin figure. A pair of slender hands peeked out from under her long sleeves, revealing a glimpse of unblemished skin- a world’s difference to Julian’s own calloused and scared fingers. There were no marks anywhere on her, only smudges of dirt from a day’s toil, but even that couldn’t spoil her perfection-her beauty. Julian was quickly drawn to her eyes. She had a pair of soft, inviting, brown eyes, which seemed to speak kindness and concern without her saying a word. There was no judgment in them, no question, no pity-Lena was so open, so kind, so everything he never was. He loved her more for it. 

Lena looked down at him, as Julian attempted not to gawk at her lovely features and averted his gaze to the ground, taking his chance to sit down. He crossed his legs a second later in an afterthought. 

As he did so, Lena got onto her knees in front of him, apologizing as she did so. “Oh, Julian, are you ok? I didn’t mean to startle you! I thought you could see me walking over. You didn’t just hurt yourself, right?” Her delicate hands reached for his shoulder, half hidden by a thick scarf. He looked back up at her worried face. He almost wanted to tell her to stand up, not to blemish herself by lowering herself for his sake. But he didn’t, he found the action too comforting.

“No, No, I’m fine, Lena. You just surprised me. I know it’s not too widely known, but I do have a brain in this head, and I’m afraid I let it wander for a little too long.” Julian smiled and placed his hand on top of Lena’s, which still rested on his shoulder. Then, with a reluctant motion, he respectfully brushed them off. He wished that would be the end of it, for her to drop her worry, but Lena was much too compassionate, and had too much of a cleric instinct for her own good. 

She leaned in, her breath so close he could feel the warmth on his right cheek as she scrutinized his shoulder. “Are you sure, because that seemed to be a pretty painful jolt. Are you bruised? I can use my healing staff if you’d like…” 

The thief chuckled at her flustered care, loving her kindness as she worried about something as minuscule as a bruise. Though, he really also enjoyed her sudden proximity. He hadn’t really seen her all day, seeing as she hadn’t participated in the battle and been caring for the wounded afterwards. Although she had been in his thoughts, her presence was much more sustaining than a mere memory. 

He put up his hands in false defense for himself. “It’s alright, Lena. No need to use your magic, I’m sure there are lots of others in need of it.” He pointed towards the camp, ignoring the small throb in his upper right shoulder. In truth, he did have an injury from the battle, but it was nowhere bad enough to warrant a healing. However, Lena would worry carelessly over any wound he sustained, so there was no need to bring it up. 

Lena leaned back, her face still full of concern, but also genuine confusion. “We are fully supplied, I have plenty of staffs and have already healed most of the injured in the camp already.” A soft smile crossed her face. “So there’s no need to be a hero about it.”

Julian chuckled and straightened himself out, shaking his head. “I think you’d be mistaking me with Princey. I’m not trying to be a hero about anything.” 

Lena smiled, knowing his lie; he had been a hero to her, an unlikely one, a rather useless one in the end, but a hero none the less. “Alright, if you say so...” She turned her face to the camp, away from him for a moment. Her shy tone returned, and Julian had figured out in the short amount of time together that she had a question. “Well, I just came over here to see if you wanted to…Uhm, I guess, ask if you… If you… I mean, I saw you sitting over here by yourself, and I thought...” Her words are a jumbled mess, but he doesn’t stop her or correct her in any way. Her flustered state is nothing less than cute. 

“I don’t want you to sit out here all alone, would you like to come back to the camp and sit with me?” A blush came to her face, and she quickly corrected herself. “With us, if you want to. I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, but there is still plenty left.” 

Julian nodded, inwardly happy that she wanted to be around him. And he’d be damned if he’d displease her or dishonor her request after she came out of her way for him. “I actually haven’t had that much to eat, probably best to snatch some up before it’s gone, right?” He hoisted himself up by using the wall as support and then he held his hand out to her. “And of course, I can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” He winked at her, and she smiled shyly, but then placed her hand in his own. Like the first time he had helped her out of the Soothsire’s cage, her hands were soft and warm- almost calming. And for a moment, everything just felt right, prefect even. His hand in hers, her hand in his- it was a sensation he always hated to lose; although, he was a thief after all. When he swiped something nice, there was always reluctance to let it go. 

Julian pulled the cleric to her feet, and she swayed for a moment until he balanced her with a steady grip. He did not let go of her hand when she was planted on the ground though, and if she was bothered by it, she said nothing.

“Alright, let’s go. Show me where your tent is, I’ll start a fire for us.” He pushed forward, not even guessing the direction he needed to go in the camp. He knew where her tent was, he always did. 

Lena followed behind, without complaint or question to his surprisingly accurate knowledge of where they were headed. She just walked a pace behind as they held hands and he brushed between the blue material of the Altean Armies tents. 

They walked into the encampment with Julian leading. The camp itself was buzzing with activity, men boasting victory with pints of ale. 

Lena’s tent was more secluded and off to the side, being the only medic she had been allowed that privilege. However, he had to pass by a many of the other tents, which proved to be much more difficult than intended since many of the men had shed their amour quickly and left them spewed across the ground, cluttering and leaving little room to walk. Julian himself had fine footing and had no problem avoiding such a thing, but Lena was not the silver-tongued sure footed liar he was. She was a delicate, modest, healer who had no experience of sneaking around anywhere. So with her, the task became more laborious as they side stepped and avoided discarded spears and painted armor. 

“I’m surprised our Altean prince would let it get this bad.” Julian remarked as he tugged Lena’s hand and stepped over a horse saddle. The beasts had been released hours ago to feed on what little grass was around these darks lands. Julian had little qualms that the horses were absent from the camp. He wasn’t one for animals. 

Lena followed behind, tiptoeing along, not exactly looking awkward, but certainty not looking comfortable. She had probably been treating others in her tent and had not seen the mess of their campsite. “I’m sure he’s quite busy, Julian. Prince Marth and Princess Manerva have to reorganize their entire kingdoms again. Lord Hardin still has to reclaim his own lands.” 

Julian smiled at her defense of the prince and his other royal cohorts. She wasn’t even from Altea and she was fighting for its prince. Her goals were pure with the desire to help other instead of just letting her talents go to waste. She genuinely cared for her country, and had stayed out of love for her country- for everyone. Julian wished his motives were as innocent, but he was only here for one reason- and it wasn’t out of loyalty for the righteous Prince Marth. He had only one love now, and it wasn’t thievery. 

Julian and Lena continued through the camp, passing many of those already beside their own fire in merriment. Cain and Able were sporting their own ale around a fire side and giving toasts to the Altea army and their Lords; other loyal men from the army cheered back at their acclimation. It was a strange sight for a Soothsire, who had had no love for any of his cohorts. Seeing the two Paladin’s shoulder in shoulder in an almost kinship display of loyalty was a foreign concept to him. Although, the peering looks of a certain Pegasus rider Julian could identify with. Est sat with her sisters around the campfire, eyes only on her green haired knight. Yes, he could understand the youngest of the sisters well, even if her hair color was one of the strangest sights he’d ever seen in all of the strange land of Meadus. 

They passed by the joyful Altean warriors and smiling Pegasus riders almost like shadows as no one acknowledged them. Julian had almost come to the destination of Lena’s tent when he passed another cluster of tents and a blue head popped out from beside a nearby fire. 

“Hey, Chief! We’re you escorting your lovely lady?” Julian glanced over to Rickard, who waved widely from his spot by the fire. He wasn’t alone. Ogma sat by the fire as well, but didn’t seem interested Rickard as he sat consuming a large turkey leg. The scar faced mercenary scanned the conversations around him with little interest, but his gaze would inevitably trail off to the swords master, Navarre, who was leaning against an opened crate with his eyes closed next to his own tent. He was in the shadow of the sun, and concealed rather well by those who passed by, but Julian doubted his restfulness. Ogma seemed to be thinking the same as he kept an eye on his adversary, attempting to feign disinterest. In response, Navarre never batted an eye at the scarred blonde. 

Rickard sat in between the two, but he looked to be ignored by both other men. It made sense as to why though- Rickard was a fellow thief. He was young, rather naïve, and over reaching at times, but he was pretty open as a crook could get. But Ogma was a loyal follower of Princess Ceada, the Princess of truth and loyalty, and she had passed her values onto Ogma at one point or another. So even though that Rickard was a rather open and more pacifistic type of thief, he was still a possible enemy to Ogma, and the mercenary didn’t seem interested in dissuading his trust in anyway. Why Navarre paid the younger man no notice was simpler. Rickard was slim built, tiny, and almost the literal opposite of what someone would expect from a Soothsire. Yet, that was exactly what Rickard was excellent at. He used his stature, his bizarre short sky blue hair, and innocence to fool his targets and enemies. Rickard was much older than his young features, only a couple of years under Julian, but his appearance put on a façade of ignorance and instability. And that was why Navarre wasn’t acquainted with him, Navarre didn’t fall for traps. Although, he probably wouldn’t befriend him even if Rickard wasn’t just conning everyone; Navarre didn’t really like anyone. 

“I was just showing Lena back to her tent.” Julian explained simply, turning away with Lena still in hand. He didn’t mind Rickard, the two had gotten to be as close as two scoundrels could get, but the man had an annoying tendency to like to cause mischief, particularly, when bored. And he had to be bored sitting between a silent Ogma and Navarre having a non-existent glare-off. 

Rickard’s eyebrows shot up at Julian’s words, and a smooth smile appeared. “Oh, are you two off to go have some private fun now?” Julian froze, and his jaw went still in irritation as he heard Rickard’s words. Lena expression went blank as well, and her cheeks puffed up in a flushed pink as the words also hit meaning with her. She turned her face away from him in embarrassment, and Julian released her hands as she squirmed suddenly uncomfortable of any contact with him. He willingly dropped their hand contact, but the sudden loss of her touch was unpleasant. He glared at Rickard. The other reason he had a great detest of Rickard because the brat had quickly figured out his motives for joining the Altean army, and the idiot liked to poke and jab at him about it as much as possible. 

The red head didn’t snap back though, and softened the glare at Rickard to a cocky smile and waved him off with a flick of the wrist. “Of course not, we were going to cook ourselves food as well.” 

Rickard perked up, his smile still present. “Oh, really!? Well, why don’t you just stay here, we’ve got plenty of food, right, Navarre?” 

Rickard looked over to Navarre still sitting upright against the crate of food, but the sword master didn’t even flinch. He just gave a sound ‘hmp’ out of annoyance. Taking that a sign of acknowledgment, Rickard nodded. “Yep, see, perfect. No need for you to go off by yourselves when you could have company by the fire….” He paused, his smile expanding as he cupped his right cheek with a free hand. “Unless of course you two really want to….” 

Julian’s reared up at that, realizing that Rickard was implying. No way would he be able to refute that without seeming defensive, or further subjecting Lena to embarrassment on his behalf. That only left him with one, undesirable, action. 

“No, of course, that sounds just fine.” He grinded out with as much false cheerfulness at the decision as he could muster. He then turned to Lena. “Is that alright with you? I can take you back to your tent… if ya really want to of course…” 

The healer shook her head. She appeared much more composed now, but Julian was sure if her brother happened to wonder by he would be assaulted for his sister flustered state. 

If that happens, Rickard’s going to be the running. Julian thought, as he sat down next to Rickard, leaving about a six inch gap between the two so he wouldn’t be tempted to harm the other man for his impudence. The cleric followed suit and sat down on one of the mats placed on the ground. She folded her legs under her and placed her hands in her lap. And although she did not bring her hands together, as she often did in prayer, the sight remained a familiar pose. 

“So what’s going on, Chief? I haven’t seen you since before we took the keep. Did ya keep yourself out of trouble?” Julian frowned at the question, and turned his thought away from the beautiful maiden beside him to the bothersome manipulator to his right. For a moment, he gave into his desire to physically take out some of his irritation on the other. He leaned over and slapped his lightly on the back of his head. 

“I should be the one asking you that question, not the other way around.” He replied, lowly. Rickard groaned and rubbed his head as though Julian had dealt him a blow with the hilt of a sword.

Lena gave a small smirk at his actions, but reprimanded him all the same. “Julian, be kind. He was only inquiring about your well-being.” 

Rickard nodded at that and his lower lip came out in a pout as he dropped his hands from the back of his head. He smiled gratefully at Lena, like she had said the exact thing he had anticipated. “Yeah, seriously, I only wanted to know how your day faired. You should be nicer, Chief. Or at the very least listen to your girl-” 

Before Rickard could end his chatter, Julian lifted the bottom of his boot and slammed it into Rickard’s own foot. Luckily for Julian, Rickard had discarded all but his wool socks, so the quick action shut the younger up rather efficiently.

Rickard yelped in pain, and jumped back clutching his throbbing foot as Julian snickered in satisfaction. Lena didn’t seem to have noticed Rickard’s remark, but she appeared sympathetic to Rickard’s plight as she looked at him grumble over his injury. It didn’t surprise Julian, she wasn’t one to watch others pain and do nothing about it. 

“Julian, stop that.” She commanded softly, and then turned to Rickard. “Are you alright, do you want me to look at it for you?” Rickard stopped his fussing, and gained a confused expression at her words. He did not seem to expect such kindness. 

“No, I was purposefully riling up Mr. Grouchy over here. He shook his head and jabbed a finger at Julian, who only crossed his arms, refusing any sort of apology. “It was my own fault.” Besides, it really didn’t hurt that much.” 

Julian wasn’t so sure about that. He had been trying purposefully to cause pain to the other thief, so he suspected that he had least given him a nice bruise. But like him, he didn’t seem to want to put Lena out of her way, especially from her sudden kindness. For that, Julian wouldn’t hit him again. 

Lena looked reproachful, but did not get up from her spot, being won over by his words. “Alright, if you’re are sure.” 

Rickard smiled brightly and gave a quick thumbs up. “Oh, I’m sure, sweetheart.” Julian rolled his eyes at the younger’s flattery. 

“Are you going to give us anything to eat already? I’m tired of hearing you talk.” Julian complained as he leaned forward and put his palms up, facing the fire and feeling the warmth on his hands. The blue haired thief gave a short laugh and nodded and then turned to face the box Navarre had claimed as his resting place. As Rickard pulled off the lid to the box, the sword master gave a short glare to the younger man, but he didn’t move an inch. Rickard pulled out two legs of lambs and then brought them over to the fire. Pans lay scattered around the fire in a pile of condensed disarray, but Rickard easily pick one out. 

“Here ya go, Chief. Cook ‘er up.” He passed the wooden handle into Julian’s hands rather unexpectedly, but the red head caught it none the less, fumbling only for a moment. Julian gripped the pan and outreached it over the fire and then placed the two pieces of raw meat into the pan. It sizzled initially and sweet scent of meat wafted into the air, overpowering the smoke. Julian tilted the pan back and forth, holding it level. Rickard came up behind him and observed his work.

“Steady, Chief. Don’t want to drop it, do you?” Julian barely honored the other with a glance and simply gave a short huff. He moved closer the fire, leaning over it a little, but mindful of his white scarf, which was wrapped loosely around his neck. 

“Back off, I can cook my own meal.” Rickard smiled at the dismissal, seemingly enjoying the rebuffs. 

The blue haired thief rolled his eyes and wandered to Julian’s right side. “Alright, I know, I know. I just want to make sure you don’t burn your own meal and the lovely Lena’s.” He gave a sweep of his arm to Lena, who was quietly sitting on the ground. She was observing them, but nothing but a warm smile sat upon her face. Julian had no idea how she managed to put up with Rickard’s words to her- ‘lovely Lena’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘beauty’- but she did, and with grace. Julian had decided a while ago that he would have to be the one to be angry for her. 

“Rickard, I know wha-” Julian started to tell the other man off, but as soon as he did the shorter man had bridged the gap between them and swung his arm around to pat Julian on the shoulder. He laughed as he did so, finding the humor to attempt to stifle Julian’s words. But instead of stifling his words, Rickard managed to banish them entirely. Unintentionally, Rickard had hit his injured shoulder and unexpected pain made Julian stutter to a stop. He let loose a sharp breath and the pan in his hand cluttered into the fire, sliding down the burning wood to the rim of the fire pit. 

Rickard felt the tense reaction and jumped back immediately, realizing he had brought on the action. His eyes became almost comically wide as Julian attempted to compose himself. 

“Chief?” Rickard questioned, his joking tone suddenly absent. At Rickard’s tone, Lena’s own eyes darted up to Julian, and the red head noticed how she shifted to stand. A look of apparent worry filled her eyes. 

“Jillian, are you alright?” The thief nodded, instinctively, and took a step back from the fire. 

Julian slumped down onto one of the mats on the ground and heaved loudly to try and breathe through the sudden throe of agony. Before, when he had slammed the shoulder into the wall, he had managed to avoid direct contact with the injury, but the careless slap of Rickard’s hand had caused the pain he had received from the original wound to flare up. 

“Julian?” Lena was beside him, leaning close to him her strawberry red hair so close that it brushed against his uninjured shoulder. He hadn’t noticed her move over to him, but her sudden closeness, which was usually only pleasant, made him nervous because he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to her at face value like he could everyone else. He couldn’t... And yet, he would have to try. 

“I-I’m ok, Lena.” He brushed off with a watery grin, attempting to hide his discomfort. Although, he was using all his inner constraint to not clutch his shoulder. 

Lena didn’t move, her face tilting slightly as she stared at him unblinking. Her brown eyes flickered between concern and confusion. Julian watched as her lips turned into a thin line, as she searched him with her gaze. He didn’t like her scrutiny, but he allowed it as he tried to give her no hint of where he was injured. If she couldn’t find it, she wouldn’t press it. He knew she wouldn’t. 

Rickard hovered in the background, silent, as Lena looked him over. Her gaze ended on his left shoulder though and it lingered there for a few moments. And as her features tensed, Julian knew he had been discovered. Her words only sealed the deal. 

“No, no you’re not. Julian, please let me look at it.” She had him cornered him like a rat in a trap. It would be effort to deny it any longer, but the disappointment from Lena was too much to handle. And it was worth a fight still.

Julian put up his hands, defensively. “No, really. It’s ok. It’s not that bad.” Rickard, who had been a curious spectator suddenly lit up with understanding from behind Lena. 

“Oh, Chief! You’re hurt?” Julian sent the nastiest glare he could spare at the blue hair thief and did not say anything. He turned back to Lena.

“Really, it’s fine.” Her expression darkened at his words, and she leaned away from him for a moment. 

“Julian, you will tell me how you are hurt, so I can help you.” Her tone was abrasive, and he could hear the irritation (the first he’d ever heard) in her voice, but it was gone as quickly as it had come on. And just as he feared, he watched as tears came to the edge of her eye lids and her entire visage turned sad. “Please.” 

Julian would have ripped off his shirt and tossed it to the wind if he thought that would have cheered her. However, he knew that would not be the case and instead nodded, slowly, and brought his hands up to the buttons on his shirt. After only a moment, the sandy colored shirt was discarded to the ground next of him, his favorite white scarf placed on top of it a second later, leaving his chest and back completely bare. 

Not a speck of red could be seen on him, Julian had ensured that when he had wrapped the wound. All that was visible against his flesh was the white of the bandages he had swiped from Maria’s supplies after the battle. By the time he had gotten the supplies, it had stopped bleeding heavily, so it had been easier to conceal. 

Lena looked down at his self-applied bandages with concern and delicately placed a hand on his bandaged shoulder. Her fingers gently probed the edge of the white cotton material and peeled it back, attempting not to jar him. However, the wound had sluggishly bled onto the bandage and dried, so as she peeled dried blood from his shoulder she pulled at the torn skin that remained. He let out a hiss of pain, but Lena did not stop removing the bandage. 

“Julian…” She whispered, lowly, the second she had fully removed the bandages. The injury itself was, at worst, a flesh wound; however, it didn’t make the wound look any less painful. The cut had been a fine slice below the back of his neck to his right underarm and was a congealed mess of torn flesh caked with dried blood and dirt. Julian knew it looked ghastly, he did. But it really wasn’t as bad as it appeared, and he would make case for that. 

“It’s not so bad, Lena. I swear.” He pledged as she continued to stare at his back. She didn’t flinch at the sight of it, but her eyes remained sad. Rickard crept in from behind and also got a good peek and whistled lowly. 

“Wow, Chief. That’s a pretty nasty wound. Who’d you manage that?” Seemingly over the shock from Julian’s injury, Rickard hovered closely as Lena analyzed the wound. Julian only gave a short glare at Rickard before continuing to plea with his healer. 

“Really, Lena. There’s no need t-” He began again, trying to convince her that he was as fine as he could be. But, before he could finish, the cleric cut him off.

“Julian.” It couldn’t have been louder than a whisper, but at her proximity he could hear her clearly. Her tone was quiet, scarcely there, but intense nonetheless. The way she said his name so simply, almost pleading, shut him up faster than anything else could. “Please, stop talking.”

His first instinct was to question her- to rebuttal. He had never been good at taking orders- one of the perks of being a thief because rarely in life did he have to listen to anyone. Yes, sometimes he would oblige to the instruction of the other Soothsires’, but it had been to receive a profit. There had no greater motive than that. So, naturally, his mind began creating a witty comeback or a wise crack to contribute to the situation. But, at the sight of Lena, with her usually warm and kind face so downtrodden and sullen, he kept his mouth shut. 

Lena leaned closer to his shoulder, so close that he could feel her light breaths on the back of his neck. Her nose was only about an inch or two away from the cut, and even it if she was only searching his wound, he did not like the sudden scrutiny she had on his body. He wasn’t shy or anything, but her gaze was focused to the degree that she was almost like a swords master inspecting her blade for imperfection before battle. 

He fidgeted under the stare, until she unexpectedly pulled herself to her feet. Her face wasn’t aggressive, Lena could never manage that, but a look of disappointment decorated her features. “Stay still, I’ll be right back with a healing rod.” And with that, she turned her heel and rushed off to her tent.

She wouldn’t be gone long, not with him sitting like this, but Rickard didn’t seem to care that his window of opportunity was small. “Awww, I think you ticked her off, Chief.”   
Julian swiftly turned a glare toward Rickard. “Really, you kick an injured man while he’s down? Surely your mother must have taught you better.” It was a joke, but Julian knew he was casting a low blow at the younger thief. He didn’t know much about Rickard’s past, but the little he did know was valuable, and more often than not, vulnerable. 

Rickard’s smile wavered for a second; however, it did not slip into a frown. The mask never dropped from the blue haired man. “I’m afraid she didn’t have time to teach me that when she was trying to sell me for pocket money.” 

Rickard moved to sit back down next to Julian and they faced each other. The sly grin still remained on the younger man’s face, so Julian knew that the subject would be changed. Rickard never seriously talked about his old life with anything akin to a smile on his face. “Don’t change the subject though, Chief. You never did explain how you got that.” He gave a flourishing gesture towards Julian’s bare back with a flick of the hand. “Your princess doesn’t seem pleased that you hid it, so you must be trying to cover something up.” 

Julian straightened up a little, and cast a look to Ogma across from them. The mercenary didn’t seem to take much note in their position aside from a side glance at Julian’s shoulder. It was true that the Mercenary didn’t have much love for Rickard, but the same was also true for Julian. It seemed thieves had little place in his heart. 

Ogma’s disinterest was a good thing though, seeing as Julian didn’t want to broadcast his injury to the entire encampment. The red head turned back to Rickard. “I’m not covering up anything.” 

Rickard rolled his eyes. “Suuureee you aren’t...” There was only a minimal chance Rickard was just going to let this go. And to dissuade the possibility of rumors, there would be no other choice but to come clean. 

“Look, it was just an accident, ok? Sometimes the other side gets a lucky shot when you’re fighting in a battle.” Julian emphasized his final word. Injuries happened in war, he wasn’t dead so there was no point in chatting about it. However, Rickard was difficult to dissuade. 

“But, Chief, that’s a pretty nasty cut. I can’t believe you got that from a one-one sword fight. What happened, did a paladin plow through you or sumthin’? 

Even with the teasing mannerisms, the question did retain legitimacy. During the battle, many of the enemy’s cavilers had managed their way into the fortress and had caused great injury to the Altean side. If it hadn’t been for their archers, who managed to counteract the horsemen, they would have lost many good soldiers. Julian hadn’t been aware that Rickard had been inside the fortress because he hadn’t been ordered to be there, but it wasn’t really a surprise. Rickard wasn’t very competent in combat and had probably found his own way around the battle. 

Julian sighed and leaned back a little, careful not to move his shoulder. “No, I managed to avoid most of that. The same way you did, I suspect.” 

Rickard cocked his head. “Well, then what stuck you up then?” 

“Snuck into a back storage room and got a little overconfident. An enemy swords man nicked me from behind.” Rickard snorted at that, and Julian’s frown only deepened as he traced a light scar on his bare forearm, intentionally looking away from Rickard for a moment. The brat couldn’t even fake sympathy and it was obnoxious. 

“Well, I’m sure you showed him.” Rickard smiled, while Julian refused to say anything. The younger thief unexpectedly leaned in towards him, their shoulder’s managing to almost touch. The almost brushing of shoulder’s had a lightning effect on Julian. In an attempt to remove Rickard from his personal space, he shot to the side and onto the mat Lena had previously been sitting. Rickard let out a girlish laugh at the reaction. 

“Ha, I hope you at least got something from the stores of some use!” Julian scowled, and Rickard only became more amused as he assumed an answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

Julian was not in the best mood already with having Lena catch him red handed in a comforting lie, but the mockery against his character was only adding fuel to the fire. And with the sting of a wound, both mentally and psychically, the red headed thief felt his insides churn in frustrated outrage. The sensation was instantaneous and felt as if someone had pressed a firm hand on his wound, coiling painful adrenaline. The brat could accuse him of many things- lying, cheating, or even falling for an angel like Lena- but accusing him of not knowing how to do his job… it was insulting, even to what little honor a thief held. 

Julian’s brow thickened and his lips turned into a fine, barely visible, sneer. His usual nonchalant gaze darkened towards Rickard. “Of course, I did.” He provided a loud huff of aggravation as his words continued to spill out. “I always get the job done, you know that. Get the job done, no matter what the consequences, right? That’s how we thieves live- we do exactly what we’re paid to do. So no worries, I would never let the youngling prince down, even if everyone in this encampment would just rather have me serve my own head up on a silver platter to the enemy and save them the trouble of sharping their own swords.” Julian stopped for a moment, his gaze distracted in his venting, but he refocused back on Rickard. The other thief seemed amused by his words; however, his eyes flittered to Julian and then to the space behind his back. Julian’s anger ran cold. 

He turned around, hesitantly, to see the sight he dreaded- Lena. She appeared as he saw her before still dressed in her full cleric garb, although, a Mend staff was loosely held in her hands. Her features though went through a sweep of emotions right before his very eyes. At first, he could see the initial pity that he always expected to see out of her. She loved everything, and everyone, and if she saw a person struggling with any kind of misfortune she’d willingly give them all her sympathy. So the pity was expected, what followed though was peculiar. Her features darkened and her mouth twitched into a frown, and although Julian couldn’t see it, Lena’s aura changed to a prickly sort of emotion- one he certainly didn’t want to approach. 

“Julian!” She exclaimed her voice not loud, but held certain a high pitch that made him cringe.

Great, she’d mad I insulted the Princeling, isn’t she? Damn. Julian thought to himself, troubled, as he tried to reason Lena’s sudden anger towards him. He brought his hands up in front of his chest, defensively. 

“Lena, wha-” He began, trying to make her calm down and apologize profusely for saying any sort of aggressive words about the Altea’s young leader. However, the usually meek Lena interrupted him with a firm voice. 

“Julian, how could you say such a horrible thing?! You’re not just a thief here. You have helped the entire nation be free of evil. How could you insinuate what you’ve done has been so unimportant!? And, think yourself so evil for doing it that every man in the camp would want to cut you down… Why, Julian?” She questioned, appalled, at his reasoning. But any attempt to rebuttal her were stalled as Julian realized her source of anger was not at the insult he’d thrown out about his ‘comrades’. No, she was mad because he had been insulting himself. 

Julian expression remained in a shocked stupor as his mouth unhinged and, without his consent, dropped open. Only a moment later, when he recovered some semblance of wit, he tried to talk himself out of it with a half-lame smile and an insecure joke. “But that’s what we thieves are, we’re the bad guys.” 

Lena’s flustered questions ceased at his attempt to jest and her words became quite enough that he was pretty confident not even the nosey Rickard could hear. “Then, you are no true thief, Julian.” He was left at a loss for words as Lena’s face tipped down and became covered by the white hood she wore. She stepped close, her hands brushing his shoulder as the staff suddenly resumed importance. “Now let me fix your wound.” 

Right, the wound, he’d forgotten. He leaned forward and averted his eyes to the ground. Lena’s staff shone a bright blue as she waved it slowly over his wound. The gash tingled slightly and he forced himself not to shift during the procedure. 

Rickard stood, looking amused at Julian’s trodden persona. And even though he didn’t deserve the smug expression from the other man, he said nothing. 

A few years ago he would never have allowed a woman to speak so harshly to him. A few years ago no woman would have ever made him feel anything, or, at least not like how Lena did. Now he felt some semblance of shame at his words, but only because Lena seemed to make him care. He wasn’t sure if that was a bad or a good thing anymore. 

Lena slowly shifted the staff up and down his shoulder, allowing the rod to heal the puncture completely. And as she did this, Rickard seemed to decide that the sudden silence was excessive. And seeing as Ogma had moved away, unnoticed sometime during their conversation, the little blue haired man had no one else to bother. Well, except Navarre. 

“So, you didn’t answer the question. What did ya get~?” Julian looked up at Rickard without a scowl this time, but he shook his head at the ill-timed question and took a long breath. 

“Silver weapons are useful.” Julian replied, defensively, knowing Rickard would continue to be a nuisance if he gave him a truthful answer. 

“But, Chief, we have tons of those in the convoy.” He paused for a moment when Rickard noticed Julian didn’t seem keen on answering the question straightforwardly. “Could you at least use it?” 

Julian grimaced as he felt the staff begin to stitch skin back together. It wasn’t particularly painful, but it prickled like small individual needles puncturing his skin. His features smoothed out a moment later though as the sensation vanished and he blinked realizing Rickard had asked another question. 

“Well, we don’t have many silver lances.” Rickard cocked his head to the side, making the simple act annoying to witness. 

“But you can’t use a lance.” Julian glared as the staff’s light began to fade and the scarring from the wound vanished. 

“Yes I can.” Julian rebuffed, confidently. Rickard shook his head. 

“No, you can’t. I’ve seen you handle an axe before, Chief!” He glanced to Lena, who wasn’t looking at him, but he made a side comment in her direction anyway. “Trust me, it is not a pleasant sight. I can only imagine what he’d do with a lance.” 

Lena ignored Rickard’s comment and eyed Julian’s back, inspecting her work. After a breathless moment, she nodded and moved away. “I’m finished. There’s no visible scaring.” She fingered her staff as his eyes drifted to the ground. “Here,” She leaned over and picked up Julian’s discarded shirt from the ground and placed it into his lap. “You can put that back on.” She didn’t seem as angry before, but Julian had never seen Lena so indifferent towards him except for their first encounter. But, he couldn’t fault her for that, seeing as he had tried to be a wiseass when she had been locked up in the Samsooth’s mountains. 

She picked herself up and swiftly dusted off the hem of her dress. She eyed both Rickard and Julian, not coldly, but with purposeful avoidance. “I’ll see you two later.” She turned her heal towards her tent once again. 

Julian knew now was the moment he should say something- apologize, beg forgiveness, explain himself. Something. Anything. He shouldn’t just let her walk away, not when she was so openly disappointed in him. Somehow, he had managed ruin the little respect that Lena held for him, and he couldn’t let that continue. Otherwise, she would stop caring about him- as she should. But something about Lena leaving made him feel fear that not even battle brought on.

“Lena, wait,” He managed weakly, realizing that she had already gone too far to call back to him easily. Now he had to choose whether to follow after her, but he suddenly felt a nervous weight in his legs that wouldn’t let him rise. 

Rickard strolled forward, unaffected, and looked to the direction Lena had gone off. He gave a low appreciate whistle. “Wow, Chief. You really pissed her off.” 

Julian wanted to glare at the other thief, but his words only left a sense of defeat within him that he couldn’t shrug off. “Apparently.” 

There was a moment of silence between the two as Julian looked to the discarded shirt in his lap as though it were Lena’s final parting gift to him. He picked it up tenderly and slipped it on over his head, relaxing easier now that his shoulder no longer ached. 

“You really fell hard for her, didn’t you, Chief?” Julian almost jumped in surprise at quiet words from the other man. He wore a smile still, but the quality of it seemed much more genuine than before. The suddenness of the question, that sounded more like an affirmative statement to Julian, caught him off guard and he didn’t answer. The lack of response, for once, didn’t seem to bother Rickard though.

“Will you go with her, after tomorrow?” Julian swallowed hard, but this time, he did know his answer.

“Yes, if she’ll allow me.” Rickard regained his cocky smile, produced a loud sigh, and threw his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. The motion seemed a strange response to Julian, who only lifted an eyebrow in question. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, I just realized another honorable thief has given up his ways of debauchery because he’s found his true love. Now I’ll have no one to share in my spoils from this war that Prince Marth has promised me.” He paused, for effect, and added a mischievous wink. “Or, at least, he might as well have promised me.”

Julian looked up at Rickard, owlishly, before the joke set in. Julian laughed. 

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He was a coward. That was the only conclusion Julian could draw from the situation. In fact, it was the only thing he could decide on as paced back in forth in front of Lena’s tent. 

It had been several hours since he had seen her storm off, and he had soon followed after he had escaped conversation with Rickard. He had approached her small tent, matching with perfect uniformity to the other dozen around it, but he did not enter. At first, he hoped Lena would come out so she might approach him and he could slip in half-hearted apology. However, after an hour of waiting, and the sun coming to set, Julian had realized that to talk to Lena he’d have to initiate a conversation himself. The idea hadn’t been pleasant, and had stood as still as a statue in front of Lena’s tent, not moving away, but sure as hell not moving forward.

After a while, he had snuck off to further contemplate the situation in the empty space behind the row of tents. The curious and judging eyes of passer byers had forced him to move from in front of Lena’s tent. Many in the camp knew where he slept, keeping careful note of his whereabouts to ensure nothing from their own supplies was snatched up by him. So he assumed that his standing in front of Lena’s tent, the camps most skilled and respected cleric, had looked a bit suspicious, and the last thing Julian had wanted was for any rumors to spread-negative or otherwise. 

Naturally, he took the easy way out and hid in the shadow of the camp, just out of reach of the camp fire’s light, but not in complete darkness either. It was a grey area, and he liked them the best. He had waited until the lights had dimmed in the camp to reenter and continue his mental stand still to speak to Lena. The silence of his earlier seclusion, which had certainly been nice to avoid spare eyes from watching him, had really only served for him to become more conflicted.

So in the half-light of spare lanterns hanging off of the tents, Julian paced, uncertain about any further action he should take.

Come on, Julian! The red head thought to himself for the umpteenth time. It’s just another woman. You’ve talked to them before, and you’ve apologized before. It is no big deal.

But it really, and truly, was. And no matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t make it true. Julian had had quite a reputation with women in his past; Rickard hadn’t necessarily exaggerated about that. Before, he had done quite a lot to win over a girl- even just for a day. Nothing had been serious for him though. It had been just a game to him, another treasure to add to his pile of plundered relationships. However, Lena was different. Julian had never gotten nervous around any other women before. He’d never helped out any other women before (except when it benefited him). And, really, he’d never cared about any other women. But Lena… She made him feel all of these things at once.

Julian couldn’t even figure out why she was different though. He’d met other female clerics before, both pretty and hag-like. He’d met other women who seemed like they could genuinely care for him, if he allowed them. And he’d been with other women who’d provided him with much more worldly comfort than Lena could. But for some unknown reason, when Julian had caught glance of Lena being shoved inside a cage by a rather brutish Soothsire, something about her had caught his glance. Yes, she was pretty, not outlandishly so, but still beautiful in her own right. Her appearance hadn’t been what caught his attention though. No, it was the way she had looked at him. And only him. It was like she had seen something in him he couldn’t, and even when he had managed to speak to her for the first time, she seemed to hold nothing but genuine care. And as though he had been hit with a love arrow from the heavens, he instantly knew Lena was someone for him. That was why he couldn’t treat Lena like any other woman, because she wasn’t one. Not to him. 

So then what will, I do?! Julian mentally bemoaned. He glanced to Lena’s tent again, his heal digging deeply into the earth as he turned in an about face in one quick fluid movement. 

There were two options he could take. The first, he could go back to his tent, get a couple hours of sleep and then rise early. He could pack his tent, his sleeping mat, and the one steel sword he held on from the battle field all into his travel bag. Then, before anyone would see him, he’d sneak away from the Altean army and once again join the ranks of another less than honorable group of scoundrels. Going back to the Soothsire’s was certainly not an option, they had all been killed by the Altean army and the few that lived would certainly not like a traitor within their mites. He’d have to find somewhere else to go. Maybe, he’d even bring Rickard along. Maybe. But, most importantly, he’d forget any of this ever happened and wipe all the faces that he had met from his memory, returning to the way things were before. Or, he could take option two, and stay with the only person he’d even grown to care for and leave all his pointless ways behind him. 

I wouldn’t mind livin’ on my own again. Maybe going somewhere else besides Mecedon. I could earn a few bucks by swiping stuff here and there, nothing too big to disturb anyone. It’d be easy, maybe even fun. But… He glanced towards Lena’s darkened tent once more. I’d never see her again. He blinked in horror as another thought came to him. She’d never want to see me again. 

And that was just not an option, not to Julian. So with new found courage, Julian took the necessary step forward and pulled open the flap to Lena’s tent. He quickly made his way inside. 

The moment he entered though, he realized the lack of insight on his part. The tent was dark, only lightly illuminated by the blurred lamp light from the outside. With the light, it wasn’t easy to see, but Julian had keen eyes and could still examine the layout of the tent. It was small, like all the others, with no extra accessories. The only difference from Julian’s own tent was that an arrangement of staffs was piled neatly on the ground and the fact that Lena herself was tucked under a thin blanket on top of a mat, asleep. Julian’s face burned red in the dark and his hand went to cover his mouth to stifle his expression of surprise, despite the seclusion. He felt like an idiot, of course she was asleep. She’d probably done so hours ago and he’d been too caught up in his own thoughts to even think about what Lena was doing. 

I should just leave before I wake her. Julian conceded, but at one glance down at Lena sleeping peacefully on her sleeping mat, he knew he wouldn’t move. If she remained mad at him, this might be the last chance he could get to see her, to be near her. And he wanted to relish in it while he was still able. He’d leave before she awoke of course, as not to frighten her by his appearance in the tent. 

For now, he would just wait, and contemplate what he would do next. He didn’t have a lot of options left and many of depended on Lena’s reaction to him tomorrow, after he had a word or two with her. By his standing now though, he expected he’d have to leave quickly and find himself another gig. And despite what he was known for, he didn’t really have a great inclination to go off and start swindling people again. Although, he wasn’t exactly willing to go out and open his own orphanage either. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. 

Julian’s gaze shifted over to Lena, who shifted slightly in sleep and released a deep breath. No, that’s not exactly true. The thief thought to himself. I know where I want to be… It’s just not possible. Not for someone like me. 

His thoughts continued on in this pattern for a little while as he stared down at the woman sleeping away, not privy to his inner turmoil. It was for the best though; he would have to let her go. This attachment, this affection, he had accumulated for her couldn’t be acted upon. He knew that. He wasn’t someone Lena should even be bothered with. She was a cleric, who was devoted to the gods she prayed to and the people she helped care for. She was clean, unblemished, perfection. He was a scoundrel, who never helped anyone. Yet, a small unaccounted hope still lingered in him that she would want him to stay with her, that she wanted him around just as much as he wanted her. But, it was improbable. And if Lena didn’t want him around, he wouldn’t blame her. It was his own fault that he had allowed himself to care for the cleric, allowed himself to feel something when he was usually so very careful with his heart. With others, he always had a motive, had a double purpose. But, not with Lena, never with her. And for him not to ever do any of that to Lena, he had to let her go. 

As Julian struggled inwardly, he didn’t notice a figure opening the flap of the tent. The person had a tall, slim muscle, form achieved from extensive riding. The figure owned a florescent shade of pink hair, reminiscent of Lena’s strawberry hair. Matthis didn’t see Julian right away, just as Julian didn’t see Matthis since both were solely focused on the sleeping form of Lena.

Julian, however, noticed Lena’s older brother first, from the corner of his eyes, and froze at the sight of a shadow looming by the tent opening. He tensed before he noticed the other’s pink hair and stature and quickly realized he was dealing with Matthis.

Matthis’s eyes lingered only on Lena and he looked poised to reach down and wake her; however, Julian flinched, slightly, at his outstretched hand and Matthis’s head swiveled in his direction at the movement. With Julian spotted, neither of them moved, not a breath passed between them as they deduced why the other was there. Julian came to a more agreeable conclusion while Matthis did not. 

Matthis gained a glare and took a heavy step forward towards Julian. “You!? What are doin-?” His tone was angry, with the haughtiness of a defensive sibling. He stepped forward, his stance leaning over Julian, who was simply placed his hands in front of him as sign he meant no harm. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Matthis stepped closer, his fist clenching so hard Julian could physically hear it. “No, wait, I can explain.” Julian replied. Matthis didn’t seem interested in any clarification though and advanced. He grabbed Julian’s collar, causing the thief to grunt as he was roughly hauled to his feet. He was surprised Matthis had the strength to lift him with such speed, but, sure enough, he was hauled up so that the two were nose to nose. With the distance between them gone, Julian could see Matthis’ glare clearly. His eyes were similar to Lena’s, having the same rounded shape and shade of brown. There was a difference though- where Lena’s eyes held kindness and open emotion, Matthis showed the opposite- withdrawnness apathy, and residing anger. And at the moment, they held nothing but malice for him. 

“Oh, you will explain you bas-!” Matthis angered voice rose, despite their uncomfortably close proximity, which Julian tried to squirm out of. The horseman’s detailed insult to Julian was cut off by a small groggy voice. 

“Matthis…? Is that you?” Lena wasn’t sitting up on her mat, but she had turned on her side and was facing their direction. Julian could hear her voice, lethargic, thick from sleep. With her sudden wakefulness, he couldn’t imagine her being able to see them clearly. And at her intervention, a part of him wanted her to rouse fully and see how her brother was assaulting him, but the larger part of him hoped she would go back into a peaceful sleep so her brother wouldn’t have a chance to tell her exactly why he was being assaulted. 

Matthis froze at her words and coughed slightly to attempt to hide the obvious anger he held. He looked down to Lena’s pallet without giving Julian any slack in his grip. “Yes, sorry, sister. I was just checking up on you. I did not mean to wake you.” 

“Are you alright?” She questioned quietly, her blanket shifting against the mat. Julian still couldn’t see her eyes because of the position Julian had him by the neck, but he knew she still couldn’t see him, otherwise, she would have said something. Even she, despite his earlier impression, wouldn’t let him get heckled by her older brother.

Matthis adorned a wicked smile, which only Julian was privy to. “Of course, I am in need of no assistance. Go back to sleep, dear Lena.” The cleric, still lethargic, seemed to detect no lie from her brother’s words, so she rolled over back into sleep. Matthis allowed her the time to regain comfort into sleep, and once she had returned to her slumber, Matthis roughly threw him out of the tent. 

Julian hadn’t been expecting the action, so he ended up tumbling out of the tent. Luckily for his quick feet, and reflexes from years of getting thrown around because of heists, he managed to tuck into a roll instead of landing on his head. He fell a couple of feet in a slight dizzy but picked himself up by planting one knee into the ground, leaving his other foot planted squarely in the grass. As Julian readied for a quick escape, Matthis came stomping out, throwing back the tent flap in one full stride. He looked no less irritated as he had a few moments ago. In fact, he seemed even more agitated because he realized that Julian had not taken on any injuries from his fall. 

Matthis scoffed at the sight of the thief and pointed an accusing finger. “You have no right. No right to be here.” Julian glanced to the side to see if there conversation had any spectators, but no one seemed to be lingering around at this time at night. 

Julian stood up, allowing a good three feet between them. He wasn’t afraid of Matthis, not at all. The man didn’t have the brutish strength of Ogma or the masterful agility of Navarre. Physically, Julian and Matthis were most likely relatively matched. Though, the horseman wasn’t that intelligent and Julian could easily outwit him, if needed. He just didn’t want to get into an unnecessary scuffle with Lena’s brother, and even though he got the sense that the two siblings weren’t particularly close, he could tell that Lena would probably agree with her brother’s position if Julian attempted to harm him. And even though her brother was rather unimpressive in Julian’s eyes, he wouldn’t begrudge Lena for siding with the other man- her family. 

“Look, I didn’t mean any harm, if that’s what your insinuating.” Julian replied, dusting himself off with a free hand. Matthis shook his head at the comment, the words brushing off as he did so. 

“The hell you did. You leave my sister alone.” He demanded, venomously, taking a step forward as if to be intimidating. However, since they were not in such a confining environment and Matthis really held no power over him, Julian did not feel any sort of fear from the paladin. 

He put his hands up. “Look,” he sighed, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. The last thing he had wanted to do tonight was talk to Matthis about his sister that he was trying to let go. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, you didn’t because I showed up and stopped ya.” Matthis announced, with pride, as though he were going to win a gold medal for his efforts. Julian would have been more sickened by the attitude if he didn’t know this man was a pompous idiot. 

“Hey, you didn’t stop me from doing anything because I wasn’t causing Lena any harm.” Matthis wasn’t appeased by the answer at all and only shook his head in visible disbelief. 

“No, you were. I know you thieves, you’re about as trustworthy lending my sword to the Satan himself.” He paused, his brow knitted together and a cruel sneer appeared upon his pale skin. “And, in truth, I’d probably swear my allegiance over to the devil first.” 

Julian didn’t bat an eye at the comment. He knew well the status he and Rickard had among the men around the encampment. They were hated because of their past occupation for once being the enemy. It was probably worse for him only because he didn’t have Rickard’s loud mouth and bright personality. The only ones who seemed to even want him here were Lena and the, rightfully, skeptic prince Marth. So when Matthis said these words aloud, it neither bothered nor affected Julian. He already knew Matthis despised him; there was no need for the man to be poetic about it. 

Julian sighed, realizing he wouldn’t be getting his point across. “That’s nice, it’s just unfortunate that I don’t seem to care.” Matthis took offense to that and his expression went to one of shock. Apparently, he had expected a bigger fight out of Julian. He hadn’t expected the red-head to just roll over at his cruel words. “Nothing happened, so leave it at that.” 

Except, Matthis wouldn’t and he kept hounding Julian anyway. The very idea that the thief was alone with his younger sister made him insanely perturbed. Matthis shook his head to calm down enough to be able to form words at all. “No, I’m not leaving it because I see how you look at my sister. I saw it the moment I laid eyes on you and her in battle for the first time. And you’ve been trying to worm your way into her good book since day one, and I won’t allow it. I won’t let some, s-some common thief win over my sister!” 

Julian wanted to brush the words off, not be swayed by the goading. He shouldn’t care about Matthis, the man was a nuisance, and after tomorrow he would never have to be bothered by his face again. However, his words affected him. He knew he wasn’t good enough for Lena, and that she deserved better than some petty scoundrel. He knew this, despite what his heart desired. Having Matthis spit back the exact words he had already told himself only set him off. Couldn’t he allow himself one moment away from the accusations? Just one moment where he thought he was worth something more than the dirt he trudged upon?

Julian’s words gained heat as he returned the glare. “Big words coming from the brother that let her get captured in the first place. You weren’t the one to free her or unite her with the Altean army. No, that was me. You were too busy running around with the Mecedon army, lamenting about a sister that was right under your own damn nose!” Julian huffed, attempting to gain a little bit more composure before his words got any more dangerous. Usually, he avoided fights amongst any fellow comrades, but he was starting to think giving this pink haired dimwit a punch to the face might actually be worth getting thrown out of the army a few hours early. 

Matthis seemed to take in his words, and at first, he seemed unfazed, but his features unexpectedly flattened and the anger dissipated. Julian was riled up now and had expected a fight, so having Matthis deflate in front of him was startling.

Ah, hit the right nerve, Julian thought to himself, smugly. 

Matthis looked to Julian with disdain and then his gaze turned to the ground. He didn’t look ready to admit defeat completely though, and Julian wasn’t surprised he spoke up a second later. “I told her not to go in the first place.” Matthis said aloud, but seemed to be talking more to himself. “She was supposed to stay home and preform her duty. But then she ran away…” He stopped for a moment, bitterness caught in his tone, and Julian wanted to slug him because he knew it was directed at Lena. However, Matthis was actually saying something of interest for once, so he did not interrupt. “Our family was left in disgrace. We lost our noble title, and they were all sent away, except me. My punishment was to remain behind and fight. And to die. He wanted me to die.” 

“What was her duty?” Julian asked, sincerely curious. Matthis looked up at him at his question, the malice for him snapping back into focus, spontaneously, as though Julian’s inquiry had reminded him of who he was talking to. 

“You want to know what my sisters duty was, thief?” Matthis spat, as his face began to acquire a similar color to that of his hair. “Do you? Because, my sister was engaged to marry Prince Michalis… She was supposed to make our family rich and never in want!” His eyes turned to the tent and the look Julian knew was directed for Lena. “But, she left without a word to any of us, thinking her happiness was more important than our entire family. I hadn’t seen her since before the War of Shadows, and I was happy to see she was still alive, but she caused our household so much suffering...” 

Matthis looked up to Julian, and then tipped his head askew. “My sister was intended, no, was born to marry a prince. What makes you think that you’re so special?”   
Julian’s silver tongue turned to lead at the accusation. He had no response. He had had no idea Lena had been engaged to the Lord of Macedon. The concept though seemed so… right. She was the perfect person to rule a country- she loved everyone. Why she did not marry the prince, Julian couldn’t guess. For once, Matthis was right. She deserved more than a common thief. 

Julian locked all of the grief and self-pity inside himself though and tipped his chin back at Matthis. The other man might be right, but Julian wasn’t backing down. “I make no claim on Lena. Neither of you shall see me again after tomorrow.” His words were icy, frigid, but they did nothing more than cut at Julian’s heart. 

Matthis seemed to lighten up at the sentiment, seeming genuinely surprised Julian had conceded. “Oh,” He paused for a moment and he acquired that self-righteous look that Julian despised. “Yeah, we better not.” 

Julian rolled his eyes at the counter, but said nothing more. There was nothing more to say. So without invitation, or further prompting, he turned his back to Matthis and pressed on back to his tent.

When he found his way back, he went in and laid down on his pallet, fully clothed, and contemplated what he was going to do. He couldn’t go with Lena, he didn’t want to be a worthless thief anymore… He could go nowhere. 

Despite Julian’s best intentions, he did not catch a wink of sleep before the sun rose again. 

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He had rose before the sun, packed his tent, and stored his belongings long before anyone else in the camp had even awoken. He could have snuck out on his own, left, without so much as being noticed at all and been halfway to the nearest town by now. He could have gotten away, too far to call back, and much too far to be retrieved. He could have been gone. 

But, as he had finished securing the Altean tent, and packing the few weapons that were light enough for travel, he had stopped. He hadn’t stopped breathing, or even thinking… He’d simply just stopped. He waited, and watched, as others rose from slumber and began to pack up their own tents, consuming quick meals before they were called to move again by their prince. It wasn’t something Julian needed to be a spectator for. He should have gone, much earlier, and have been rid of the responsibility- the weight- that he had as one of the Altean soldiers. Nothing was preventing him from leaving, nothing, except for himself. When he had tried to leave, to pack early and just get as far away as possible, something had kept him grounded. And the feeling had kept him from marching off, over the horizon, to a destination only his feet could decide. 

For a moment, he couldn’t pinpoint it. It was a feeling inside of him that was unknown to the thief. It gnawed viciously at his heart, pulling strong. And he couldn’t figure out what it was until he thought about it, until he brought up her face. Until… Until he realized that when he thought of Lena all he could think was the look of sheer disappointment she’d given him the day before. That had been the last time she had looked upon him. And if he left without a goodbye, it would be the last look she’d ever give him. He’d make sure of it. And with that image in mind, he realized what was keeping him: guilt. 

He couldn’t leave with her being upset at him, or at the least, without offering an apology. She deserved better, better than some lame excuse from him, but he’d offer one anyway. And ease the guilt, appeasing his own selfishness by looking upon Lena one more time as well. It wasn’t right of him to want to see her again, seeing as he should just make it easier on everyone and just vanish. However, he felt desperate. Never before had he ever felt kinship to an alcoholic, but he regretted the jests he’d made at a few men in the past that had little control of their liquor. He could sympathize now. It was difficult to give up what you’d become indulgent on. 

So he waited, for the sun to rise, for everyone to wake up, for a moment to speak, and for Lena. He lingered and he caught sight of her soon enough. She had risen rather early as well, reciting her morning prayers before breakfast. She had eaten with her brooding brother, the Pegasus sisters, and Rickard who would occasionally send him fleeting glances as though willing him to come and join them. Julian had stayed his distance though, sitting in the shade of someone else’s tent and wait for morning meals to be eaten. 

He had watched Lena finish, and knew that there would be no better time to talk. She was relatively alone, cleaning out her tent and packing her staffs for travel. She appeared happy. Her nosey brother wasn’t very far away, saddling his own horse, but he wasn’t guarding over her at the moment either. It was an open opportunity. Yet, he couldn’t make himself approach her- not right away. He watched her struggle to secure her tent for a few seconds before he could uproot himself. He paced over to her, his heart pounding in his dry mouth as he came up unnoticed behind her. 

“Let me help you with that.” He announced, sounding braver than he felt. Although, his ‘bravery’ wouldn’t allow him to let his gaze linger on Lena for more than a mere moment.   
Lena jumped at his sudden arrival, but she didn’t stop him as his callused hands began wrapping up her tent canvas. “Oh, Julian. Thank you.”

Julian nodded, but remained unapproachable as he immersed himself on packing the tent. Unfortunately though, he was very talented in such labor and quickly bundled the tent for travel. Lena had stayed by his side to watch his work, saying nothing, but the moment he finished his distraction was gone- burned up as quickly as though it has been hit with one Merric’s fire spells. 

He finished with the tent and placed it down, building the courage to face Lena. He expected scorn, a confused expression, some kind of signal that hinted that he was not wanted in her presence. However, she only looked at her as she always had- with care. Julian couldn’t almost believe it, but hid the flicker of happiness, realizing it was only cruel for himself to get hopeful. 

“I’m finished.” He stated simply, his mouth unexplainably dry. She nodded at his work and stepped closer to him to look at it herself. She seemed pleased, for she only stole a glance at it before returning to look at his face. 

“Yes, thank you, Julian. That was very kind.” She said, simply. He expected her to continue her packing and sorting, leave his moment of charity behind, and prepare her own leave. But, she did nothing of the sort and stood attentive, almost waiting, for him to say something. 

She is waiting for you to say something, Julian. He thought to himself. Say something, anything!

He hadn’t expected her to want to hear from him. He thought she would still be upset with him, but after a moment to think on it, he knew he had been truly foolish. Lena never held a grudge at anyone. Not even him, apparently. Now he owed her an apology. 

He found his words again after a few moments of awkward silence for both of them. “Lena… I’m sorry. I was a fool yesterday. My words wounded you, and… I don’t want any lingering anger between us…” Julian said, leaving out the ‘before we part…’ that he wished to add. The words seemed to linger in the air implied though as Lena wrinkled her nose at his sentiment. 

Without any kind of prompting from him, Lena’s delicate hands reached out and took one of his own. He would have wretched away, kept her perfection away from him, but the shock of the action and the feeling of her skin under his loosely held fingers caused him pause. “Julian,” she started, her soft brown eyes searching his face. “I’m sorry.” Her phrase was simple, calm and sincere as ever. Yet, par usual, her words stole any feasible response Julian could have given. 

S-She’s sorry!?!? Julian mentally stuttered in a panic. Why the hell would she think any of this is her fault?!

Julian, about to more eloquently express his own inner thoughts, was cut off by Lena’s small voice again. Her hand still held his in a small cradle, forming a bridge between the gap of space that Julian had purposefully kept. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that before,” she continued, softly. Genuine distress seemed to roll off her in waves as she griped his hand harder, trying to communicate her sincerity through her touch, despite the fact Julian could hear it clearly through her words. 

Julian tossed aside her apology, playing it up like it was no big deal. “Ah, no problem. It’s nothing I didn’t deserve.” Her words hadn’t stung, only surprised him. He had never heard such kind words directed at him before, and the fact that she was so damn sincere about them scared him because they gave him hope- something he didn’t allow himself much of anymore. 

A pregnant pause settled between them as Lena’s lips slipped into a rare frown. She shook her head back and forth with jarring speed, looking as though she were denying she had kicked a puppy or something equally repulsive. “No, you didn’t.” Her head stopped moving, and the familiar pity crept back up into her eyes as she took a sigh before starting again. “I-I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I understand that not everyone trusts you around here, Julian. I-I w-well, I can see that.” Her eyes darted to the left for a moment, almost like she wished to pick someone out from the encampment to blame for their lack of faith in Julian; however, Julian knew it would be impossible to point the blame at all of them for the distrust. “I, just, I wanted to…” Lena’s eyes met his again, confident, assured for a moment, very un-Lena like. He’d seen caring Lena, calm Lena, and definitely flustered Lena… but this confident Lena was new. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t like it. “I wanted to make sure that you did not think that’s how everyone thought of you. Because, I don’t.” 

The admission was strong, and it left the thief staggering for a moment in confusion. He knew Lena generally cared for him, he had saved her life and all, but to go as far and trust him…. And to carry such a flag as to defend him? Very few had ever done that, and it had been a very long time since anyone had at all. “Why not?” He croaked out, forcing himself to ask. He didn’t want to know the answer, didn’t want to know the truth- he didn’t want rejection. Yet, at the same time, he wanted an answer. Any answer to his question. Something over nothing.

Lena looked surprised for a moment at his question, not having expected it, but a moment later her features smoothed out and became uplifted. “Why? Because you are a good man, Julian. I have known that the moment you helped me out of that cell in the Soothsire’s mountains, or when you offered to go back alone to get my healing staff only because I asked it of you, or when you joined Marth’s army to help put a stop to this war. I’ve seen your valor this whole time, and even if others haven’t yet, they will.” 

Because you’re a good man. Never in his life had anyone said those words about him. Ever. Not to say that he’d never been called anything before- boy, scoundrel, villain, coward, fool- he been named all of those before. A good man? The idea of that label for him was almost laughable to Julian. Yet, there was Lena, with her open smile and calming touch, saying these exact words to him. The last thing he’d ever want to do was laugh at her when she was this sincere. And even he- the boy, scoundrel, villain, coward, fool- couldn’t tell her she was wrong because she was the first to ever say something like that to him, and he didn’t want to break the illusion. 

I’m not a good man. Julian thought to him, desperately. I’m not…. But she thinks I am. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try and be one? He had pretty much kept his nose clean since he had joined Marth’s army, trying to cut himself off cold turkey to try and impress Lena. He hadn’t stolen anything from anybody on their side, he hadn’t outright lied, hadn’t swindled… but, in a way, it had only been an act to try and get Lena’s attention, since the beginning, he hadn’t been sincere. Yet, he had slipped into a habit of this good guy act, and it was growing on him. Could he keep it up? He didn’t know, but the sudden urge to try consumed him. 

He looked down to her delicate hands and he lightly squeezed back, if only to secure the hold more. To keep up this being a good guy act, I’ll need her. Julian realized this, knowing all the promises of leaving her behind and letting her move on without him were forfeit because she sure didn’t seem ready to get rid of him and… he didn’t want to leave. 

He smiled brightly, and brought Lena’s hands up with his to eye level. She looked at him curiously at his action, but did nothing to stop him. With his mind made up, he bowed down slightly- not mockingly, but not overly genuine either- and smirked up at her. “You have good faith in a foolish man, my dear Lena.” He brought one of her hands up to his face, and his lips hovered over her delicate skin. He had seen many men provide a rescued damsel a courteous peck on the hand, and even though Julian never thought he himself would ever show such manners, he graced Lena with one and then looked up to her face. “But, I suppose I can continue to prove myself to you, if you’d be willing to let me accompany you to where ever you’re going?” 

Lena’s face flushed, slightly. “Oh, Julian, stop teasing…. You don’t have-” Julian’s insides churned painfully at her words, knowing if she said them that she would be as good as sending him away from her because he wouldn’t go against her wishes. He interrupted her, not allowing her finish the sentence. 

“I’m not teasing,” He said, sincerely. “I believe I’ve become a sort of bodyguard to you over the last couple of week, Miss Lena, and I would hate it have to come rescue you again if you happened to get yourself captured.” He smirked again, but Lena didn’t fall for the bait and react- she never did. “So, will you let me accompany you?” 

Silence filled the air for a moment after he asked, and Julian held his breath. He had never wanted a response so badly before. Lena’s soft features didn’t change to confusion and disgust though, so hope welled up inside Julian. 

Julian’s worries were dispelled with a quick nod from Lena, paired with one of her glowing smiles. “Yes, of course, Julian. I would love that.” It wasn’t a profession of undying love or happiness to him, but at the phrase Julian’s heart leapt with delight. Lena, his own God given angel, was letting him come with her- to be with her. He couldn’t ask for more. 

Well, he could, actually, because as a bright smile lighted his face he leaned in and shorted the gap between them so he stood next to her. He didn’t tower over her, but he was a good foot taller. At the sudden proximity, Lena blushed, but he wasn’t pushed aside. He leaned down and got closer to her, lips coming close to brush up against her. This all occurred in less than a few seconds, and Julian knew he should stop, but Lena didn’t move away, or flinch, or show any signs of discomfort, so he remained rooted. And then he did what he’d wanted to do since he’d first laid eyes on her. 

He stole a kiss. 

It wasn’t passionate, long-lasting, or even what he’d prefer. It was just a light feathery kiss upon the lips, lasting no longer than the peck on her hand had. In truth, he shouldn’t have done it. She was a cleric- pure, innocent, and blameless. He barely had the right to look upon her, let alone, kiss her, but for the longest time he’d tried to imagine what her lips felt like and if they were as soft as he imagined. They were, but it didn’t make his action right. 

After a moment of realizing how rash his actions were, he stepped back from her, becoming just as flushed as she was. He hadn’t meant that, but stealing was a hard habit to break as a thief. He was still weak in that regards. 

“I-I, umh, sorry, that was….” He put up his hands in front of him, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Lena’s cheeks were a brightly shaded, from embarrassment, Julian guessed. But a moment later, she let loose a nervous giggle. “N-No, it’s, um. It’s fine. I’m not upset.”

Julian nodded and turned, attempting to recompose himself to something other than the flustered school boy he was presenting to her. Once the heat on his face had died down, he turned back to Lena, not reaching out to her again and trying to change the subject hoping he hadn’t ruined anything by his selfish action. 

“So, when are you planning to leave?” He asked, avoiding the previous situation. Lena settled down as well at the question, still smiling. 

“Soon, I suppose. We must wait for Matthias to finish his preparations.” Julian’s smile wavered for a moment at the thought of Lena’s brother, who as far as Julian had known had been watching them. The red head looked to where the other had been sitting before, but the spot he had been was thankfully vacant. 

No doubt he didn’t see any of that, otherwise, I’d be dealing with another one of his tantrums. Julian smirked as he banished any further thought of the annoying horse man from his mind. 

“Pity we must wait,” Julian replied. “Don’t suppose we could just leave him?” Lena’s eyes twinkled at the comment and one of her fingers came to her cheek in fake contemplation. 

“I suppose we could, but then we would probably have to bring Rickard along wouldn’t we?” Julian laughed at her words and her bout of wit, and shook his head. He had had a good morning today, without Rickard’s teasing tongue, no need to go and ruin it. 

“No, no, of course not. I suppose then we must find your brother.” Lena nodded and then suddenly grabbed his hand. She immediately turned and led the way from the spot they stood, most likely in search for her missing brother, but Julian paid no mind to their steps or the fact that he was following behind her. He just took comfort in the weight of his hand in hers, and relished in the closeness that was so utterly new, and so utterly right. If she guided him anywhere like this, he would follow.


End file.
